


False Start

by Suspicious_Popsicle



Series: Pretty Much the Same [6]
Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 06:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3599703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suspicious_Popsicle/pseuds/Suspicious_Popsicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuri has some issues dealing with changes to her and Flynn's relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	False Start

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Aaaaand fem!Yuri gets to deal with being demisexual. This takes place several years before the rest of the set, back when the girls were not long out of high school and had only just begun dating.
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.

Flynn's cellphone went off, scooting jerkily across the coffee table as it vibrated. She had left it there when she'd gone to her room, and if it had been her part time job calling rather than Estelle, Yuri would have let it go to voice mail rather than get up off the couch to bring it to her.

Padding down the hall, she felt a chill on her bare legs. As hot as it was outside, it was too damn cold to be wearing shorts in the apartment. Flynn's frigid idea about what constituted the perfect inside temperature was not something Yuri had taken into consideration when they'd moved in together. She switched off the air conditioning as she passed. It wouldn't take Flynn long to notice, but at least it wouldn't get any colder in the meantime.

Flynn had left her door cracked, so Yuri didn't think anything of pushing it wide open with barely a warning.

“Hey, Flynn. Your phone's—” She broke off mid-sentence, transfixed by an eyeful of Flynn bent over in the middle of slipping her skirt down over stockinged legs. Her breasts were pale and soft above the cups of her bra.

That brief glance burned itself into Yuri's mind, making the moment stretch out far beyond the actual time it had lasted even as Yuri turned her back to the room with a muttered: “Oops.”

Amusement warmed Flynn's voice. “There's this new fad called knocking,” she teased.

“Oh, ha ha.”

Yuri held her chin high, though she really felt like banging her head against the wall as she berated herself for acting like an idiot. Why had she turned away so quickly? It wasn't like she hadn't seen the same thing back in the high school locker rooms. They'd been dating for a month, for heaven's sake! It shouldn't be such a big deal to see her girlfriend half undressed! It should be _normal_! Her face was burning, and she could feel her arm starting to shake as she held out the phone, offering it blindly in Flynn's general direction. It stopped vibrating just as Flynn took it from her, fingers warm as they brushed against Yuri's own.

“You look like you got a bit too much sun today,” Flynn said.

She tweaked the top of Yuri's ear, causing her to flinch away and spin back around, ready to defend herself. The skirt was gone. Flynn was grinning, at ease in nothing but black stockings and a bra, black lace over cream satin just pale enough to look like nothing at all. That was _definitely_ cheating.

Though they'd been dating for a month, and Yuri had been attracted to Flynn for much longer than that, it was still _so weird_ to want to touch another person the way she wanted to touch Flynn. For almost the full nineteen years of her life, those had always been impulses other people had to deal with. Yuri had been mercifully free of such complications until she'd begun realizing that she might be a little closer to her best friend than most girls. She hadn't been able to believe her luck when Flynn had eventually admitted harboring friendly feelings and then some for her, but living with her best friend-slash-girlfriend was an entirely different situation from the fuzzy, half-formed imaginings that had been teasing Yuri for the better part of two years. She still wasn't entirely comfortable about acting on her yearnings, however, and had been increasingly returning to the philosophy that fears were meant only to be overcome. Although she wasn't sure _why_ some part of her was still holding back, she was determined not to let that part interfere with her relationship.

Yuri grinned and stepped in close, pushing herself right up against Flynn. Standing like that—staring right into her true blue eyes—helped for a moment by putting Flynn's state of undress out of sight. Then, however, Yuri became aware of the rise and fall of their chests as they breathed, the warm weight of Flynn's breasts against hers, the slight catch of the lace of Flynn's bra against the cotton of her t-shirt and she wasn't so much flustered anymore as acutely aware that they could be kissing and weren't.

Yuri was a woman of action. She took Flynn's face in her hands and kissed her.

Kissing was something she'd gotten the hang of quickly. It hadn't been that odd a progression from casual touches to sitting close as could be when they shared the couch to hugs and soft presses of lips to the warmth of tongues, the wet smack and quickening breaths and sensations that left her a bit lightheaded and reluctant to pull away. She _liked_ kissing, and she hated the fact that she was always the one to balk for no good reason before things got much further. Determined to finish what she'd started this time, Yuri stepped forward over the threshold, pushing Flynn back into her room and towards the bed. The phone hit the floor with a bounce and was forgotten.

Trying to walk that way was clumsy. Flynn laughed as they kissed, breath coming in short puffs across Yuri's skin. She settled her hands at Yuri's waist, let them ride the movement of her hips as Yuri hustled them across the carpet. Her stockings felt odd against the skin of Yuri's legs, a slippery diffusion of warmth. When they at last fetched up against the bed frame, Flynn boosted herself onto the mattress and wrapped her legs around Yuri's rubbing her feet along her calves. There was laughter in her eyes and her smile, and Yuri pressed forward again, claiming that happiness with a kiss.

Flynn stroked Yuri's hair back, rhythmically. It was ridiculous how context could change that simple action from calming to arousing. The feel of her fingers became a continuous sensory murmur, rushing and returning like ocean waves. They washed over Yuri, and the feeling ran down her skin in shivers and tingles, until she felt as if her body was buzzing. The lightheadedness was coming on, spurred by the prickling chill wherever her skin was left bare and untouched, by the way she tilted her head to make the kiss just that little bit deeper, the way Flynn's lips moved against hers, the way her mouth was warm and welcoming.

Slipping her hands briefly through Flynn's short hair, Yuri let her touch drift downward, skimming the soft, swaying column of her neck; dipping in at the base of her throat; curving over her shoulders—round and soft and strong; tracing lines down her arms with the barest touch of nails; moving in over her waist, velvet-soft skin that Yuri had forgotten was bare. She flattened her palms over Flynn's skin, perfect and unscarred, and let them slip around to her back. She felt the flex of muscles, the way Flynn swayed with the kiss, leaning into her, closer and closer still. She felt the warmth fill her up, gather in her palms as she stroked Flynn's back, a little lower each time, brushing up against the waistline of the stockings, a little higher, bumping the strap of her bra across her shoulder blades.

“Take it off.”

The muffled words barely registered, and Yuri dove back into the kiss without acknowledging them. She heard giggles rising from deep in Flynn's throat, felt the hands running through her hair falter and fall away. Before she knew what was happening, Flynn had slipped her hands up beneath Yuri's shirt. Her touch left trails of heat over Yuri's stomach and sides, and made her shiver as, reaching higher, she pushed the shirt up out of the way. Her fingertips brushed the lower curves of Yuri's breasts, hesitated, then skimmed over them. Yuri hadn't bothered with a bra that day, and she shivered as Flynn's thumbs brushed over her nipples. It was enough to break her out of the kiss, shoulders hunching reflexively. Her own hands settled in the curve of Flynn's waist.

“You can take it off,” Flynn said softly. She was grinning, and Yuri couldn't figure out what she meant.

“My shirt?” she asked, confused.

“Well, that, too. But I meant my bra. It seemed like it was getting in the way.”

Yuri's hands stayed where they were. This was good. They hadn't gotten that far before. Either Flynn always had to leave for work or get up early for her classes, or Yuri.... Well, Yuri didn't really have an excuse. She wanted this—she was _sure_ she wanted this—but every time they came close....

She licked her lips and realized that Flynn was staring, realized that she hadn't moved. Slowly, cautiously, hoping that she was only imagining the trembling, she ran her fingers up Flynn's back until she found the catch for her bra. She fumbled with it, fingers gone stupid with a sudden nervousness, and it wasn't like she didn't know how to undo these damn things just because she preferred sports bras, but Flynn's had three catches. Who wore bras with three catches?

Satin and wire parted beneath her fingers. She saw the straps sag on Flynn's shoulders, saw the blush of excitement that had risen in her face and spread to leave even the top of her chest rosy. Yuri was frozen again, wanting so badly to touch and find out where— _exactly_ where—all of this would lead, and it was okay, wasn't it? Flynn had told her to take the bra off, and she was still smiling and—

Flynn kissed her. Yuri's eyes slid shut. Her thoughts calmed. It was fine. Everything was fine. She relaxed into the kiss, feeling Flynn's hands still on her breasts, massaging gently, fingers rubbing over her stiffening nipples. What a strange sensation of skin-on-skin. The first shock had faded to a pleasant warmth that traveled through her and made her heart pound. Flynn could probably feel how quickly it was beating. She had to be able to.

“Yuri?” Kisses traveled across her cheek, to the curve of her jaw. She turned her head in keeping with their trail and felt Flynn's breath on her earlobe a second before the touch of her lips. “You can touch me, too, you know. It's all right. Welcome, in fact.”

Freeing up a hand from beneath Yuri's shirt, Flynn gathered up her hair, brushing it aside to expose her neck and kiss her way down to Yuri's shoulder. Yuri shivered—whether from the kisses or the lost warmth or the suggestion, she wasn't sure. Her hands had curled into fists against Flynn's back. There had been nothing to grab onto except the sagging bra.

Slipping a finger into the collar of Yuri's t-shirt, Flynn tugged briefly before letting it flop back against her skin. She'd run out of room to trail kisses and now sat back and uncrossed her legs from around Yuri's. She planted her hands on the bedspread, and the motion stretched her bra taut across her once more. It caught up beneath her breasts, no longer containing them, but holding them up for show as she pulled herself further onto the bed. When she sat straight once more, the bra slipped down her arms and she let it fall into her lap before picking it up and tossing it away. She'd turned her face briefly to watch it fly to the end of the bed. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes seemed a darker, deeper blue. Drowning depth, Yuri thought as Flynn looked back to her and she fell into those eyes.

Crawling up onto the bed, Yuri knelt between Flynn's legs. She looked.... God, she looked so _different_ , somehow, stockings on spread legs, breasts bared for the first time Yuri had ever seen. She didn't start again with hands and fingers, but leaned in and kissed Flynn, thanking her without words for her trust and how patient she'd been to wait for this. Yuri pressed in, just a little closer, and suddenly there was no room between Flynn's breasts and hers. The accidental brush sent a spark straight down her spine as she broke the kiss and sat back. Flynn had asked her to touch, so....

She started at Flynn's waist again, pinkies grazing the tight hem of black nylon. As she drew her fingers up over stomach and sides, she watched for the little shivers to run through Flynn and gained courage when she saw them. She kept going, ignoring the anxiety swirling in her stomach.

Her palms were damp. Her fingers skipped and caught against Flynn's skin, so Yuri curled them in, ran the backs of her fingers up to the soft curve of Flynn's breasts. They were larger than her own, heavy and warm over her knuckles, and her hands blossomed beneath them, turning to cup, fingers splaying to encompass.

Flynn's breath was coming quicker. She was watching Yuri, gaze fixed on her with such intensity that Yuri could only return her look for a moment's glance. Her attention was drawn quickly back to the fullness of Flynn's breasts in her hands, the dusky rose of her nipples, already pert, waiting. Copying the way Flynn had touched her, Yuri brushed a thumb over one nipple. Flynn sucked in a breath, and it was mesmerizing to watch the way she moved. She rubbed little circles, watched Flynn roll her shoulders back to push her chest forward. Her eyelids drooped until they were half closed over hints of sky.

On impulse, Yuri leaned forward to kiss the hollow of her throat. She kissed a line straight down, stopping when her cheeks were between Flynn's breasts. Her skin smelled faintly of sweat, of fading deodorant and detergent. Sneaking a glance up, she met Flynn's eyes and saw the soft smile that briefly pressed her parted lips together. It was plenty to encourage her on. She turned her face, traced the hemisphere of Flynn's left breast with her lips, felt its velvet softness, felt the bud of her nipple. She rubbed her pursed lips over and around it, getting a sense for the texture. Flynn's breathing was audible. She was trembling very slightly. Yuri parted her lips and flicked her tongue over her nipple.

The noise Flynn made would have been a whimper if it had come from anyone else, but Flynn didn't whimper. Yuri looked up at her, curiously. Her head was tilted back. Her hands clutched fistfulls of the sheets. Slowly, Yuri lowered her head, watching as her hair slid across Flynn's skin. She kissed this time, a slow, sucking kiss, being careful to keep her teeth out of the way. Flynn tasted different, the perfumed hint of makeup and melon chapstick having been replaced by a faint taste of sweat-salt. She squirmed beneath Yuri, arching her back a bit more, pushing her hips closer.

Yuri smiled against her skin, gratified to know she was getting it right. Turning her head, she kissed her way back across Flynn's chest, lifting a hand to take over where she'd left off. She was gentle and careful, mimicking what Flynn had done earlier. Although she felt the urge to pinch, to nip playfully and see how Flynn would react, she kept her touches soft. Flynn didn't mind when she got a bit rough while making out, but this was different. This was more intimate. This was something new. Yearning and stubbornness were what had kept her pushing forward when her nameless anxiety would have held her back, and she didn't want to fuck up. Her heart was racing, and she felt a burst of euphoria as she thought that perhaps she had conquered those impulses to shut herself away from Flynn, those shapeless fears that had restricted them thus far to the innocence of kisses and stray touches through clothes.

All in all, she was doing well—so well—and then Flynn surged forward, catching her up in a hug and tackling her back onto the sheets with a bounce and the soft 'fwump!' of bedding. She was straddling Yuri's waist, cradling her head in her hands, fingers stroking along Yuri's hair as she kissed her so deeply and let her breasts hang down to brush against Yuri's. Her toes kneaded the air, rubbing up against Yuri's legs with each tiny movement. When she sat back, it was with that same suddenness, and she grabbed the hem of Yuri's t-shirt and yanked it up, working it out from under her back. Caught up, head still spinning from the desperation of the kiss, Yuri was raising her arms to shimmy out of it before she quite realized what was happening.

All at once, she found herself naked to the waist and Flynn was settling once more on top of her, familiar and strange without the barrier of clothes. Grasping for what she knew, she clung to Flynn, kissing her hastily, clumsily, trying to work her thundering heart back into the rhythm they could find in languid kisses and arms wrapped around each other. Flynn's breasts were squished against hers, and it was their movement that massaged now, punctuated by the brush of her nipples as she rubbed against Yuri.

What had been nice and simple at first, what she had been fascinated to explore was now coming a bit quickly, was turning into a bit too much, but Yuri swallowed back her protests and squeezed Flynn tighter, kissed her more desperately. It was fine. It was Flynn with her, just Flynn, it was fine. The words broke up in her mind, smashed apart by the movement of tongues, the press of flesh, the shivers that ran up her spine, and the heat pooling between her legs. She grasped for thoughts of reassurance, and was left gasping for air as Flynn began kissing down her neck.

Mirroring Yuri's earlier progress, Flynn dropped kisses like warm rain in a line straight down her body. She kissed each of Yuri's nipples, and closed her teeth gently around one. It was enough to make Yuri gasp and nearly sit up off the mattress beneath her. Instead, she lifted a hand to her mouth, holding back protests that didn't make any sense. She trusted Flynn! She wanted to be with her! What the hell was there to be scared about?

Flynn's kisses continued lower, flanked by the touch of her hands, soft and feather-light. Yuri could have sat up and shoved her back. It wouldn't have taken anything but a thought. She clamped down on the impulse, trying not to squirm as the heat of Flynn's mouth crept closer to the waistline of her shorts. She hadn't realized she'd been making noises until she heard Flynn's name in her voice, a strangled squeak that humiliated her with its weakness. She bit down on her hand to muffle herself, and only then realized that the kisses had stopped.

“Yuri?”

Concern rounded out Flynn's voice, and Yuri couldn't even look at her. She'd spoiled it, _again_ , and hadn't even been able to come up with an excuse to get away before it had all gone to hell. It was only _sex_ , damn it! Couples did it all the time! It was normal, natural! It felt _good_! So why the hell couldn't she stop shaking?

With a quiet sigh, Flynn crawled off her without touching and got up off the bed. Wordlessly, she pulled a corner of the covers up to fold over Yuri who curled onto her side, clutching the sheet to her chest. She watched as Flynn picked her blouse up off the floor and draped it over her shoulders before kneeling down beside the bed.

“Yuri? Are you all right?”

Obviously not, but if she didn't understand her own anxieties, how was she supposed to explain them to Flynn? She stared at the sheets, unable to answer.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” That had been an easy one, and her gaze snapped up to meet Flynn's. “It wasn't.... I _want_ to, I just....”

There was relief in Flynn's expression as she reached up to stroke Yuri's hair away from her face. It was ridiculous how context could make that simple action so calming.

“If you're not ready, you should have just said so.”

“I—! We've been going out for a _month_ already!”

“Oh, _I'm_ sorry.” There was the ghost of a laugh in her voice. “I forgot we were on a schedule. Would you feel better if we rearranged—took a romantic getaway together first and saved this for later?”

“When you say it like that, it sounds stupid,” Yuri grumbled. She _felt_ stupid: stupid for trying to rush, stupid for getting hung up on the idea.

Flynn smiled and, though it was soft, it still crinkled up the corners of her eyes. She leaned forward and rested her forehead against Yuri's. Her fingers still stroked reassuringly through her hair.

“It's okay to wait,” she said. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“What if I don't _want_ to wait?”

“Then you need to tell me exactly when to slow down so we don't ruin your first time.” She rapped Yuri lightly on the head. “Idiot. Why do you always have to make things harder for yourself?”

“I want to _be_ with you.” She held Flynn's gaze, needing to be sure Flynn knew she was serious.

“You said that already. Do you think I don't believe you? Yuri, you don't have to prove yourself to me. Is that why you're pushing yourself?”

“No.” Not exactly. She wasn't trying to prove it to Flynn, but to herself. She'd only been trying to vanquish her insecurities. Fat lot of good that had done.

“It'll be okay,” Flynn said, ruffling her hair. “We'll get there in time. No need to rush.”

Yuri nodded. No way was she going to let that anxiety get the better of her forever.

  
  



End file.
